


Corrective Measures

by muzivitch



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-09-04
Updated: 2007-09-04
Packaged: 2017-10-18 10:29:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/187963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/muzivitch/pseuds/muzivitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He <i>hated</i> Yanagi.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Corrective Measures

_**[Fic] Corrective Measures | Yanagi, Kirihara, PG**_  
Title: Corrective Measures  
Author: Muzy [[](http://muzivitch.livejournal.com/profile)[ **muzivitch**](http://muzivitch.livejournal.com/) ]  
Series: Prince of Tennis  
Characters: Yanagi, Kirihara. Pre-slash.  
Rating: PG for Elf's pottymouth  
Length: 719 words  
Summary: He _hated_ Yanagi.

It _had_ been a good day.

The English teacher had called in sick, so their homeroom teacher had covered, and since their homeroom teacher was nearly as hopeless at English as he was, they'd watched a movie. In English, sure, Kirihara thought, but you didn't need to understand much English to know what was going on in _Speed_. You didn't need much English to realize that Keanu Reeves couldn't act his way out of a paper bag either, Kirihara thought fifteen minutes in, but that didn't lessen the awesomeness one bit. Too bad it never happened on his bus; he might be able to stay awake for the trip to school if it did.

Practice started off good too. He got paired against Marui Bunta, and no matter what cocky genius boy thought, Kirihara could kick his ass. Blindfolded, probably - at least he could if Yanagi Renji stepped FAR away from his court and did something useful, like play tennis. Last time Kirihara checked, that was the point of joining the tennis club.

Besides, Kirihara thought as he narrowed his bright green eyes and hissed, Yanagi wasn't even captain. He wasn't even a third year. He was a lanky, tall kid only one year older than Kirihara himself with a creepy habit of never really opening his eyes. Yanagi managed to beat him on his very first day in the club, Kirihara thought. He'd barely broken a sweat that time, but the next time, Kirihara promised himself, Yanagi would be dripping in sweat, and he might even bleed.

"You're not getting the optimal amount of power, Kirihara," rang a smooth, deep voice across the court. "Bend your knees. One and a half inches."

A black eyebrow twitched under a thatch of tightly coiled dark curls, and Kirihara returned Marui's volley, sending it whizzing across the court and right by Marui's ear. He grinned when it lodged itself in the chain length fence that separated the back tennis courts from the football field. It was still vibrating, he thought; who the hell needed to bend his knees.

He didn't hear the footsteps, and his eyes popped wide when he felt a hard tap behind his knees. He whipped his head around in a snarl and glared up at Yanagi Renji. His expression hadn't changed, Kirihara thought, but he could _swear_ that Yanagi was laughing at something. At him, specifically.

"Bend your knees, Kirihara," Yanagi said again, but softer, and Kirihara gritted his teeth together.

"I don't need to," he said. He was vibrating, the way the tennis ball had been vibrating a minute before. "I _already_ can beat Marui."

"Yes," Yanagi said matter-of-factly, ignoring the redhead's irritated squawk from across the court. "But you can't beat everyone."

"I can beat _almost_ everyone," Kirihara countered, crossing his arms over his chest.

"You can't beat me." That calm, flat, just-the-facts tone again. "Don't you want to beat me, Kirihara?"

Kirihara's expression turned sulky as he poked out his bottom lip. "Yeah."

"Then bend your knees."

"I _hate_ you, Yanagi."

"Yes," Yanagi said, and his voice was as dry as the desert as he gave Kirihara another tap behind the knees. "I know."

Like bending his knees was the magic ingredient he need to kick Yanagi's ass, Kirihara fumed, making a face as the other boy pivoted and walked back to the edge of the court. Marui had wrestled the ball out of the fence and was ready to serve again. His stance said it was going to be hard, and it was going to be vicious, because both Kirihara and Yanagi had pissed him off. Kirihara grinned and widened his own stance, shifted his grip on the racket.

And he bent his knees. Yanagi nearly smiled, and inclined his head when Yukimura came to a stop beside him. "I thought you were playing the captain," he said.

"I'm done," Yukimura said with a negligent shrug, resting his racket against his shoulder. "And somehow I thought Kirihara's training might be more fascinating." He tipped his head to one side. "I was right."

Yanagi said nothing, but Yukimura thought that perhaps his best friend's mouth twitched upwards a bit.

"He doesn't really, you know."

"Who doesn't really what?"

"Akaya doesn't really hate you," Yukimura clarified.

Yanagi gave Yukimura a cool look, and then smiled faintly. "Yes. I know that."


End file.
